


Unshed

by wheniwrite28



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 12.23, Death, Grief, M/M, Pining, Shadows - Freeform, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 17:28:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11902608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheniwrite28/pseuds/wheniwrite28
Summary: There is so much to be gained until all is lost





	Unshed

He is not moving. He should though. That is what alive means right. THEN WHY DOES HE NOT MOVE. Why are those shadowed wings engraved on this earth. Those things terrified Dean when he first saw then. Why does it now makes him ache in a strange way. He is an angel, was an angel. Please wake up, he sobs. There are no words that leave his mouth. Strangely there is an acute numbness that threatens to take over his body. He wants to feel the grief of this. 

He saw it happen, the blade piercing through, Castiel leaving this mortal plain. Then why is he not grieving, why are there no tears that he can feel. Why does the ache in his body seem to go away. Castiel deserves to be mourned then why can't Dean Winchester do one thing properly. Mourn the loss of his friend, his brother in arms, his, his.... his. 

Dean is sitting besides, kneeling is more appropriate, besides Jimmy Novak's body or at least what Jimmy Novak used to be. Why does he only see Castiel, when he has taken other vessels, not only this. He has seen death, agony, pain. He has been to hell. How could this make him inhuman. How could this be the straw that broke the camel's back. Why can't you breathe, god fucking dammit. Why? 

He closes his eyes, his eyes dry with the burden of unshed tears, with the heaviness of his heart the only indicator that it was ripped from his chest and put there again to pump blood. He is there, Dean is there, but not quite. He left with the white light that faded, or was it blue like his eyes. WHY?

He itches to touch what remains of Castiel, the body he has known intimately, the body he has touched, in both battle and in peace. The body that gave him warmth. Now remains that itself, a body. The soul that made it whole, not there anymore. He can't seem to understand why this would happen, was this penance of all that has been lost, all the havoc, all the consequences of giant fuck yous they gave to GOD, to Billie, to the world itself. When did his luck run out or was he temporary relief from this world of pain.

A balm, a panacea that was too good to be true. COME BACK, he shouts in the world, his mind reeling with the ferocity of judgement he feels upon him. The night sky, devoid of stars, the slain body of angel, he, the lone warrior of a lost war. The world still muted. The pain still numb. The body cold, both his and his dead lover.


End file.
